


December 18th: Christmas Flowers

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [19]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, An Ineffable Holiday (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ineffable Advent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, christmas flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 18 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Aziraphale catches Crowley having a conversation with his poinsettias.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	December 18th: Christmas Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Despite a prior record of poor decision-making and a tendency toward psychological repression of topics that - at the time - could not be considered, Aziraphale was far from stupid. He was well-read _(very_ well-read), attentive, and had spent much of his existence observing others. He paid especially close attention to those that were most important to him in this universe. Therefore, there were plenty of tidbits of information that he'd picked up here and there, things that he wasn't certain Crowley realized he knew, and he held those bits of information close to his chest, cradling them like newborns that required love to grow. 

One such bit of knowledge was the fact that Crowley used a rather stringent form of negative reinforcement in the raising of his plants. That was, perhaps, a light way of putting it. The demon's plants were perpetually petrified. Aziraphale hadn't even realized that Crowley's interest in plants was as exceptional as it was until the night following the cancellation of Armageddon. When he'd first seen the demon's indoor garden his heart had nearly exploded with affection, for he could see that Crowley had built himself a haven: his own little Eden. 

It didn't take long, however, for the angel to feel the ever-present ripples of terror coming from the plants in waves. It hadn't taken much longer after that for Aziraphale to understand that this wasn't the type of behavior he could simply scold the demon for. Crowley didn't scream and growl and threaten his plants out of cruelty or any genuine desire to torture them. His actions were clearly a projection of a more internal turmoil. Crowley had disappointed the one who created him, nurtured him, and watched him grow, and he'd been cast out for it. His plants, in turn, were cast out if _they_ disappointed _him_. 

Aziraphale wished very much to put an end to this destructive cycle the moment he'd realized it was happening. But he also understood that this wasn't the kind of coduct he could temper simply by asking the demon to stop. Nor was Crowley likely to respond positively to being scolded - therefore perpetuating the internalized belief that he was a disappointment. 

So Aziraphale proceeded with care and caution. He taught by example (without, of course, allowing the demon to realize it was a lesson) by speaking in soft, kind tones to the plants in Crowley's garden. Crowley, in response, grumbled and growled and occasionally even shouted at the angel, but bit by bit the reactions got less and less extreme. Meanwhile Aziraphale was carefully diligent when it came to his own treatment of Crowley. Without being obvious about it, he worked hard to ensure that Crowley understood that he was loved and cared for, that he was in no way a disappointment to the angel, and that positive reinforcement was invariably preferable to its negative counterpart. 

(The positive reinforcement bit had been going incredibly well since the introduction of a sexual aspect to their relationship, if Aziraphale did say so himself.)

All of this was to say that the angel had been both cautious and wary to keep an eye out for any destructive behaviors when he'd purposely taken a few less-than-pristine poinsettia plants back to the bookshop for the holiday season.

At least, he  _ thought  _ he'd been cautious and wary, but he was now forced to admit that he may have overestimated any forward momentum that may have been garnered from Crowley in recent months. 

He'd stepped out of the shop for only a short while to bring some Christmas cookies to the neighboring shopkeepers, but the moment he reentered his own building he heard a smash from the backroom, and felt a wave of frustration and disdain hit him like a slap in the face. A growl that could have easily been rage followed shortly after.

He approached the back room quietly, not intending to sneak up on his demon but wanting to get an indication of the situation before deciding how to proceed. He worried that perhaps going with visibly imperfect specimens had been too much for the demon and he'd taken the opportunity of Aziraphale's absence to put an unhealthy fear into the poor poinsettias. Perhaps he should have, instead, purchased the most verdant plants he could find and simply nurtured their beauty from a place of prior accomplishment.

The angel crept toward the backroom, expecting to hear growling, hissing, snarling, or any combination of the three. He anticipated it, readied himself for it, already trying to work out a plan for working back the damage that had been caused as a result of his thoughtless decisions-

-but to his great surprise what he heard instead, as he neared the doorway, was a gentle, soothing voice murmuring words of comfort and apology. 

"Here we go...it's gonna be fine...don't worry, we'll have you right as rain in just a mo'...hold on now…"

Aziraphale peered silently around the edge of the doorway and was greeted by a scene that had his chest burning with adoration. 

One of the poinsettias was on the floor, it's terracotta pot smashed into a dozen jagged shards, and potting soil positively everywhere. Beside the scene of the destruction, however, was a demon who was carefully removing the bulk of the plant from the mess while delicately infusing it with a tiny tendril of demonic energy to repair the damage done to its roots. While an angel watched with a soft smile on his face, the demon snapped his fingers to instantly repair and re-soil the pot, before gently pressing the holiday blooms back into their home. When he was satisfied with his work he brushed his hands on his pants and lifted the repaired plant back up to the table next to its mate. 

"There, all better," Crowley said with a soft sigh. "Sorry for knocking you over. Didn't notice how close to the edge you were. Now, you two are going to grow well for our angel, okay? No slacking. He deserves the best and we're going to give it to him, right?"

The leaves and petals of the two plants rustled, but not in fear. 

"Now I don't want you thinking that I'm going easy on you," the demon continued with just a hint of a growl to his voice. "If you disappoint Aziraphale I will  _ not  _ hesitate to shred your holly jolly floral asses." A bit of a snarl was met with more rustling that, if the angel had to take a wild guess, almost seemed like giggling. "Yeah, yeah," Crowley mumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, "shut up, I know. I love him too."

The poinsettia's rustled softly, and Crowley's posture went rigid.  "He's standing behind me, isn't he?"

"Yes he is." 

Aziraphale beamed up as his demon slowly turned to face him. Crowley had all the look of a man desperately trying to puzzle his way out of imminent doom. 

"I, uh- That's… How long have you-? I was just…"

Warm fingers clutched the demon's lapel and pulled him down into a soft kiss infused with love, pride, and flagrant infatuation. When Aziraphale pulled back Crowley's face was red and his pupils were dilated. 

"I've no idea what you're talking about, my dearest," the angel assured the demon. "Care to join me for lunch at that little Greek place around the block?"

Crowley blinked once, twice, and then quickly schooled himself into something resembling his usual casual, carefree demeanor. "Yeah, sure angel," he coughed a little conspicuously. "If y'want." 

Aziraphale's smile was positively radiant. "Lovely." He lowered his hand from Crowley's lapel down to slot it into the demon's hand. "Let's be off then, shall we?"

As the two walked away hand-in-hand, the demon scratching at the back of his head in a way that indicated he wasn't entirely certain what had just happened, a few leaves and petals rustled in a chuckling way. And when the pair returned, sated and well into their cups for the evening, the angel noticed that the two poinsettia plants were significantly more flush and vibrant than they'd been when he purchased them. 


End file.
